The Death of Us Read Free Page A

fine, loyal horse. It makes me want to do something for her, like fix her hair, or get her some decent clothes. There aren’t so many loyal people on this earth.
    “Are you happy to be in Edenville?” she asks.
    “I didn’t want to leave Kansas. Understatement. I—” I touch my chest, over my heart. “Can wechange the subject? Why don’t you try the dress on? Then we could go to a bar tonight or something.”
    She laughs. “Ivy, we’re too young to get into a bar.”
    “We look way older than sixteen. You’re telling me you haven’t been into a bar? What? Ever?” Now I know what I can do for Callie. She totally needs to get out more—her mom was always too controlling. I say, “We’re going to have so much fun.”
    “I don’t know,” she protests weakly. She starts folding a towel she’s picked up from the floor.
    “It’s summer vacation. You deserve this. Tell you what, I’m going to be your ticket to the best summer ever. Like it was supposed to be last time.” I pull off my dress and chuck it onto the floor.
    “Okay, um …” She looks away.
    Yep, she totally needs to loosen up. “Are you
blushing
?” I ask.
    “Course.”
    “You’ve seen it all before.”
    “We’re not kids now.”
    I shimmy across the room.
    “Ivy!”
    I giggle. “What?”
    Callie smiles. “Nothing. Put some clothes on.”
    “If you let me paint your nails. And if you promise to wear my silver dress—”
    Her phone rings and cuts me off.
Callie
    Mom’s calling. Whoops, I forgot to text her and I’ve been at Ivy’s house for ages.
    She says, “I’m on my way home now.” Her voice is tight.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “Your granny fell off that dreadful step. I knew she would. The hospital called.”
    “Hospital?”
    “Your dad’s tied up, just for an hour. I need you to watch Cosmo—please, love.”
    “Is Granny all right?”
    Ivy pats a spot next to her on the bed and says softly, “You okay?”
    Mom says, “Where are you? Aren’t you at home? Is that Rebecca?”
    “I’ll be there in two minutes, don’t worry. How’s Granny?”
    “She’s all right. I think. Shaken. Look, I’ll meet you at home right away.” Mom ends the call.
    I sit next to Ivy, heavy suddenly. “My granny fell.”
    “Is she okay?”
    “I think so. But I have to go. I have to babysit Cosmo. I’ve never done that before.”
    “A baby can’t be that hard to figure out. I’ll come help.”
    “Um, I think Mom would prefer it if I …”
    Ivy shuffles closer. “I understand. Family.”
    I lean in to hug Ivy goodbye but she’s doing that European kissing thing. On the bed, we semi-hug but Ivy ends up kissing my hair. Awkward.
    Then I’m out of there. I hurry down the back alleyway, the dust of summer on my sandalled feet, the dirt of the day grimy on my clothes and hair, the silky silver dress clutched in my hand.

    The morning after Ivy walked back into my life, I’m awake early. Not that I really slept for worrying about Granny. I keep reminding myself that she was released from the hospital, so it can’t be toobad, and that Mom and I are going to see her after breakfast. A warm breeze drifts through my open window, lifting the curtain, as if the day is peeping in. The sky is already bright although it’s not even seven. I love the light in Edenville.
    A line floats into my head.
She asked you to stop by the river when the world cracked open like an egg.
This happens to me all the time: words drift like bubbles in my mind, but I never write them down. I guess I feel like they’ll look different, stupid somehow, if I do. At least I can write stuff for
Flat Earth Theory
; non-fiction feels more straightforward, as if there’s a right way to do it. Mom’s always eager when I write for the zine, overexcited, over-proud. I know, poor me! I should be pleased she’s so interested in my writing but instead it makes me feel pressured to write something amazing, which makes my imagination curl up and die. A voice floats up